


Peace

by Erma



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Commitment, Family, Love, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erma/pseuds/Erma
Summary: While on a diplomatic mission to a world during a holiday season honoring peace and goodwill, Han and Leia work through an issue of married life and contemplate the complexity—and simplicity—of peace.





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inelegantprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inelegantprose/gifts).



> **Author’s note:** This is for the amazing inelegantprose, and is a contribution to the Han and Leia Secret Santa exchange on tumblr, moderated by the lovely imnothere24, organanation, and hanorganaas. Many, many thanks to just-lils for being a wonderful beta-reader, and to imnothere24 for being a wonderfully supportive cheerleader. Inelegantprose, may you have peace and happiness this holiday season, and in the year ahead!
> 
> This story responds to two of inelegantprose’s suggested prompts: “write a fic post-Endor in which something that seemed resolved in the films isn't,” and “write a fic about a male character realizing something unexpected about Leia's experience of the galaxy as a woman.” I hope this fits the bill! This is primarily OT canon in nature, not Disney, with the detail that Han and Leia got married at some point very soon after Endor. Inspired by our December holiday season, it’s a reflection on the layers and implications of a state that we all desire… with a bit of _fluff_ thrown in to keep things merry and bright.

### 

**Peace**

-:||:-:||:-

Peace.

Leia leaned back into the plush couch cushions, feet tucked comfortably underneath her. A steaming cup of tea warmed her hands as she gazed at the wintry scene outside the window. The forest clearing stretched lazily away from the guest living quarters, slowly retreating into the dense evergreen wood beyond. Snow was falling steadily in the dim, late afternoon light, gently covering the trees and meadow in a blanket as soft as the one draped around her body.

Peace was what everyone had assumed would come in the wake of the second Death Star’s destruction, just months ago. The anticipation of peace shot through the air and space of the battlefields that afternoon, propelled by the fiery explosion marking Endor’s sky more dramatically than any fireworks ever could. The shockwave of that anticipation had rippled through the entire fleet, bulging with relief and exhaustion and mourning and hope, as the celebrations carried on that heady night on the ground, in the trees, and in the skies overhead. The reverberations continued unabated through the rest of the galaxy in the hours and days following, as countless other celebrations were held upon receiving news of the Alliance’s victory, each infused with that same anticipation of peace. The Empire had been defeated, the Emperor and Darth Vader were dead; the war had ended. The epic heroes from the first Death Star battle had survived, and had again emerged victorious. And as those heroes had gathered around the celebratory bonfires in the Ewok village that night, their bonds of friendship drawing them close, bonds forged in the fires of trials and tribulations, it had all seemed so certain, so clear, resolved—it was resolved, wasn’t it?—that now, finally, peace could come to the galaxy…

_That’s not how peace works._

Leia sighed, nestling deeper into her blanket, her father’s words echoing in her mind. The fire in the fireplace crackled soothingly, and the light outside the window diminished rapidly with evening’s approach. The falling snow, heavy masses of weightless fluff descending gracefully to the ground, reminded her of winters past, of a life long gone… of childhood… As a child, life had been blissfully and thankfully peaceful. Winters had been filled with snowball fights and hot drinks and snuggling with friends or her parents under warm blankets by a crackling fire. Other seasons had also been filled with their own joys and the comfort of being with family and friends. These and other recollections of childhood were imbued with a sense of rightness, of warmth, of love and support… of peace... But now that peace was gone, massacred by the corrupt and malevolent ideology of beings intent on protecting their own self-centered desires at the expense of others… But was that entirely true? Was the peace of her childhood gone because Alderaan was gone, or because childhood itself had expired? Even if Alderaan still lived, would the peace of childhood remain?

A low-pitched call slowly pierced the blanket of tranquil silence. Leia’s attention snapped to full alert; too many years of being on the run, living in shadows, watching over her shoulder—of being on the front lines of a guerilla war—had sharpened her senses and shortened her reaction time. It had been only months since that resounding victory at Endor, and here, in this living unit, as the guest of a rebel cell trying to navigate their world’s competing political factions to more openly support the Alliance, she couldn’t afford to completely take her safety for granted...

But as moments passed and no threat emerged, she relaxed, placing the sound as the call of a nocturnal bird. Her awareness no longer blurred by indulgent reflections, she took in her surroundings with new clarity. Her cup had grown cool in her hands. The fire in the fireplace had died down, reduced to a low, glowing heat. The snow had ceased falling, the clouds had parted, and the late afternoon light had given way to a clear evening sky. The light from the nearest of the world’s three moons glared boldly, illuminating the snow-white clearing and casting long, silent shadows of the forest. It was a beautiful scene, what many would consider peaceful, even: the pristine surface of newly fallen snow, the crisp clearness of a winter night, the trees tall and serene, the full moon cool and bright. Peaceful… and yet, was it really? The nocturnal bird that had called out was likely a bird of prey, preparing to hunt and kill another creature for its nighttime meal. She knew that other, far larger predatory animals roamed this region as well, just as ready to destroy another being’s peace in order to gain their own peace of a full stomach. Even the cold, snowy landscape itself seemed peaceful only from the comforts provided by technology: without the insulated walls of the dwelling or the full ceiling overhead, or the automated heating system or the kettle to warm her tea, how peaceful would that snowy scene really be? How peaceful could it truly be out in that freezing, pristine clearing, bundled in just her blanket, hearing the calls of hungry, large nocturnal predators in the nighttime darkness, piercing the tranquil semblance of safety?

Leia closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. She was no fool. She had helped lead an armed rebellion and had been a combatant in actual battles and skirmishes, wearing armor to protect herself from bodily harm and wielding weapons with which she inflicted injury and even death upon others. She had served in the Imperial Senate and watched her father and mother fight their own political battles, each of them wearing the armor of civility and refined manners, wielding weapons of intelligent words and strategic thought. She knew full well that peace was complicated, a transitory state, even illusory. It was delicate, fragile, often more difficult to maintain than to achieve. But still, even she—standing around the bonfire that night on Endor, buoyed by the spirit of friendship and love which enveloped the entire assembly that night—had thought peace might come. Would just—happen. That together, they were nearly invincible, she and her team of heroes: Luke the noble knight, Chewie the stalwart mast of support, Lando the faithful friend, Wedge the stoic fighter, even Threepio and R2, those inseparable and unintentional defenders of good, with Han, the cynical smuggler with a heart of gold, cracking jokes at awkward moments to keep things from getting too serious—

The entry chime at the guest unit’s door sounded, marking out a previously-arranged pattern of tones, a pattern indicating a friend, not a foe, was about to enter. In this case, a golden-hearted but very grumpy _friend_.

Leia smiled softly as she turned to greet her testy companion. “Hey, how’d it go?” she asked gently. Han glanced up from setting his parcels down just long enough to shoot her a pointed glare, then turned back to the task of taking off coat and boots to fully enter the warmth of the guest suite.

It was remarkable, really, what months of not fighting a relationship could do for learning how to strengthen a relationship. Realizing it would be best to go easy on him rather than challenge his surliness, Leia rose from her seat, taking her cup and leaving her blanket behind. “Come on, I’ll get you something warm to drink.”

Han followed her to the kitchenette, as did his cloud of irritation. “Does it have to be warm?” he grumbled. “Fine with me if it’s straight from a bottle…”

“Ah,” she tossed out lightly, testing the situation as she pulled out a second cup and more tea leaves, pouring water into the kettle. “The tea is actually nice, and it’s very relaxing by the fire. We can just sit together on the couch, get comfortable under the blankets…”

The test results came back: Han completely missed her subtle invitation. “Those guys…” he started, before stopping in frustration. _OK then_ , Leia knew, _talk first_. Leia turned to listen, leaning against the countertop as the kettle began to warm.

Han leaned against the kitchenette’s doorframe, annoyance and exasperation and anger and indignation each vying for their turn at expression. “Those guys were unbelievable. They wouldn’t stop drilling me, as if I was the ambassador here. They couldn’t get it through their thick skulls that I’m just the pilot, that _you’re_ the ambassador.” He shook his head, indignation winning for the moment. “Kept asking who wore the fucking pants in our relationship…” He trailed off, his gaze landing somewhere in the distance.

Leia waited for him to go on, in part because she wasn’t sure where he might go. He could still get very upset at comments like this one, both at the implications regarding his manhood and the disrespect shown to her. Was he riled up by this? Then again, he was slowly becoming acquainted with some of the unpleasant aspects of being involved with a well-known politician; he was learning that the sorts of barbs he just described were not at all uncommon, and it was generally useless to take them too seriously.

“I don’t get it,” he continued, as his gaze came back to her. “I mean, look: I’m just a field-promoted general who would still be a nobody smuggler if not for a few lucky breaks here and there. No, wait, listen” he threw up a hand, heading off the protest he knew Leia was likely to make in response to such a self-deprecating comment. “I’m not a politician. _At all._ I’m just a military guy. _You’re_ the Princess here, the gods-damned Imperial Senator – _former_ Imperial Senator” he quickly amended himself, again anticipating Leia’s usual response, “and for the life of me I can’t figure out why the hell they won’t talk to you!” Indignation gave way to angry exasperation, and now she knew where he was going: he was angry at the disrespect shown to her. “What in hells is wrong with them? They want to support the Alliance? _They’re_ political leaders. _You’re_ a political leader. _And_ you’re a leader in the gods-damned Alliance! They should be talking to you, not me! But the moment you told them we’re married and not just _friends_ they completely shut off. Sith,” he ground out, “What in hells are they thinking? That being married makes you incapable of…” His voice again trailed off, but his body grew still, and he simply looked at her.

Leia smiled softly, knowingly. This was an unexpected turn to well-worn arguments between them. She waited.

Han took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his expression unreadable, his eyes never leaving hers. “This is why you want to keep _us_ quiet.”

Leia tilted her head. They were on familiar terrain now: making their marriage public knowledge versus keeping it _quiet_. But with today’s events, Han now had a new level of direct experience to draw on. Maybe this time he’d get it. “It’s not that I want to keep our relationship _quiet_ or hidden. It’s that I want to keep our relationship _our_ relationship. It’s ours. No one else’s. If someone wants to deal with the Alliance, as you said, they should deal with me. It shouldn’t matter whether I’m in a relationship, or who that relationship is with.

He frowned skeptically. “Yeah, fine. But really? I mean, I would want to know if someone I was working with was related to someone questionable.”

Caught by surprise, her guard flew up and her body tensed. “What do you mean by that?”

Han winced, shutting his eyes for a moment, realizing with regret his choice of words. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I…” This was fraught territory, this horrible aftermath of learning the truth of her and Luke’s parentage. They could reason through some aspects intellectually, but the emotional wound was still raw. Very raw.

The kettle began to whistle. Ignoring it, Han looked into her eyes, and tried again. “I mean, related to someone _by choice_. If someone was willingly in a relationship with someone questionable, that might reflect on them… so maybe that’s why you want to keep our relationship quiet.”

Her guard still up and the kettle now demanding attention, Leia lost her patience. Disturbed by Han’s unintentional insinuations, she mistakenly thought he was going down the route of self-deprecation rather than mere conversation. Shutting the kettle off and placing the leaves in the cups, she snapped at him. “Would you stop that? As you noted, _I’m_ the one who said I was married—that _we_ were married. I have no problem telling anyone who I’m married to. In fact, I’m rather proud of my husband and love telling others I’m married to him.” She poured water into the cups briskly. “And whether it’s a relationship by choice or not, the questionable person might reflect on them. Who knows what others will choose to think? A relationship with a _questionable_ character can be dismissed as unimportant or taken to mean far more than it should.” She stepped aside and turned back to face him, pointing at his cup, too irritated to hand it to him. “The relationship doesn’t matter, not until later, if then. They need to know they’re dealing with me first. Just me.”

Han thought about this for a moment. “OK. So it’s about first impressions then?” He took her slight nod as encouragement to continue. “So if the first impression is that you’re single—or, well, _solo_ —” he paused, flashing a quick smirk, always ready to seize an opportunity to make her eyes roll, “then they start off by taking you on your merits. But if the first impression is that you’re married, then...” He trailed off, not quite sure how to say the next part.

Mollified by his awareness, she helped him out: “…Then the foundation that is laid regarding their impressions of me as a negotiator immediately involves another person, not just me. This automatically invites into their mind a host of implications beyond my merits, views about womanhood and marriage. And when many cultures view women and wives as somehow subservient or lesser than, it’s incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to recover any footing in the negotiations.”

Han considered her words in silence. He’d known that many cultures viewed and treated some segment of their population unfairly, typically females rather than males. He’d always thought himself beyond such views, and hopefully his actions showed it—but this wasn’t about him. This was about the two of them, and how to manage their lives together. Basically, in order to do her job well, _she_ felt she needed to keep quiet about _them_. And the day’s meetings with the rebel cell’s leadership had brought this lesson home to _him_ all too clearly. The cell’s all-male leadership was strangely cautious when the meetings began, seeming to find it difficult to take Leia seriously in the discussions, reluctant to afford her a sense of equality, let alone acknowledge the authority she carried as representative of the Alliance. Then when discussion turned to logistics for the meetings over the next few days, the need to clarify and simplify several points meant Leia had needed to explain she was married—that they were married—and the cell’s leadership had suddenly stopped talking. And stared at her. They just _stared_. It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so astoundingly rude. Conversations had devolved from there until Leia urged Han to take up the leadership’s offer and go with them on some tour of a nearby village. She’d used her politician’s words to persuade him—something about developing common ground and establishing connections and perspectives—but it was the look in her eyes that did the trick: she knew she was out, and _he_ had become her only hope of salvaging the negotiations for the Alliance.

He took a deep breath and broke the silence, hoping to convey the full weight of his new understanding of the situation, his dismay at the inequity, and his desire to support her. “Damn.”

Leia nodded. “Yeah.”

“So…”

“So…”

He really was at a loss. “So, what do we do here? I don’t want to have to keep quiet about you.”

Leia shook her head and smiled. She couldn’t fault him for having the same basic instinct that she did: to announce their marriage loudly and repeatedly to anyone within earshot. “Again, I’m not saying we need to keep quiet. But let me ask you: when you meet with your contacts, do you start off by telling them you’re married?”

“No, of course not, but—“

“But nothing. If you don’t, why should I? If it doesn’t make a difference in your professional dealings—“ Han raised his eyebrows at _professional_ but let the point stand, “—then why should it make a difference in mine?”

Han nodded slowly. “Double standard, huh?” He was getting it.

“That’s right,” Leia said. “So we’re not keeping us quiet or a secret. We’re keeping in mind what’s personal, and keeping it personal. We’re maintaining the circumstances that let me stand on my own in professional settings, just as you do in your professional encounters.”

Han nodded again, in agreement. He got it.

Leia turned to their mugs, removed the leaves, handed Han’s cup to him and took her own. She tilted her head towards the living area, and they made their way to the couch. As she placed her cup on the table to settle in, Han put his cup down and moved to revive the fire in the fireplace.

“So,” he began, while poking and rearranging the logs in the pit, “you didn’t seem too surprised by how Grand Leader Fancypants treated you.”

She shook her head, far too accustomed to his disparaging nicknames to give this mild one much thought. “I wasn’t.”

Han paused, a fresh log in hand, hovering over the pile of charred ones, as he turned to look at her. “You knew they would treat you like this?” Suspicion began to creep in. “Leia, did you set me up for this?”

Leia laughed. “No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Relieved, Han turned back to the fire. “Knowing what I know about some of the attitudes here, I knew treatment like that was a possibility. “ She paused. “I _wasn’t_ expecting to be dismissed so completely.”

“But you’re not bothered by it?”

“Actually, I’m infuriated by it.” Han turned to her again; her calm tone didn’t match her words. “But there was something about coming here, about this occasion…” Leia looked out the window. The moon had climbed higher in the sky and was no longer in view, the shadows shorter than earlier but the snow-covered clearing still fresh and pristine. “Even though it made me angry, I guess I had a good feeling about this…”

Han eyed her carefully. She had that look on her face… “Um,” he started carefully; this was still uncomfortable territory for him. “You—you’re looking a bit like Luke right now.” Leia turned to him, puzzled. “Was this good feeling some Force thing….?”

“No,” Leia chuckled and he turned back to the fire, trying unsuccessfully to hide his relief. Then she reconsidered. “Well, maybe? I mean, you learned something from this, didn’t you?”

He spun around to look at her again, incredulous. “Wait a minute. _Did_ you set me up for this? Did we come here so you could get me to hang out with a bunch of idiot politicians just so you could prove your point?”

Leia smiled soothingly, letting his comment about politics slide. “No, it just happened that way. No,” she repeated firmly at his lingering expression of disbelief. “It’s… I just had a good feeling about coming here at this time.”

Satisfied with his efforts, the fire now rekindled and the flames flickering warmly, Han left the fireplace and joined her on the couch. “You mean with the festivals going on.”

“Yes.” They jostled for comfortable positions as they rearranged the blanket to cover both of them, Leia tucked snugly into Han’s side, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting on his shoulder. “From what I read in the reports, the festivals and celebrations are very different from each other in many ways, but they seem to share a common theme of hope, of wishing for peace and goodwill towards others.”

“And you thought you’d build off that spirit to get them to join up?”

Leia snorted. “I’m not that crass or opportunistic. They reached out to us, remember? I don’t know if their “holiday spirit” encouraged that contact or not. But I did believe that coming here at this time wouldn’t hurt our chances.” Han’s hand began tracing lazy paths up and down her arm. “Usually, when arranging visits like these, it’s better to wait until after a festival, when the beings aren’t busy attending to the festival preparations. But this time, well, for some reason…”

Han kissed the top of her head and spoke into her hair. “Did _you_ want to come here for the festivals?”

The question struck a nerve. She thought carefully before responding. “Maybe… I didn’t have a particular desire to take part in the festivals, but to participate wouldn’t bother me, either… ” Her reflections from earlier bubbled up. “I think I was drawn to a place with a whole season devoted to festivals honoring peace.”

Han sighed, his hand pausing on her arm to give it a gentle squeeze. He knew the recovery efforts had been taking their toll on her. “Sweetheart, it’s been less than a year since Endor. Peace takes time.”

“I know. _That’s not how peace works_ …” She sighed heavily. “But does peace ever really come? Really?”

Han looked down at her, a bit shocked. “Leia? You OK? You’re not giving up on this are you?”

“No, I’m not giving up, but…” She sighed again, her shoulders slumping a fraction. “I’ve been at this for so many years already, and of course Mon and the others have been at if far longer. We know history, we know psychology and ‘human’ nature. How long can peace really last?” Han held her close, his chin on her head, as she continued. “Look at this world’s leaders, Grand Fancy Leaderpants and all the others.” Han chuckled. “The territories say they’re united, and the rhetoric and official communications support this line. But as intelligence suggested, and as we’ve seen in the last two days, the tensions between the territorial factions are shockingly strong. The level of vitriol and gridlock has increased dramatically in the last few years. It’s disconcerting to say the least. It makes it tough to know whether or how much to believe in their assertion that they wish to help us establish the New Republic. They say they want to support peace by increasing their support to the Alliance, but given how hard it seems to be for them to maintain peace here, I wonder if they even understand what we’re trying to do. And if they do join us and help establish peace for the galaxy on some level, will they in turn learn how to better support their own people? Can we offer to help them settle tensions here? Is that even possible?”

“Princess, you’re asking an awful lot of yourself.”

She didn’t answer.

Han’s voice grew firm. “Leia, you’ve already done a hell of a lot for one person working towards peace. More than what most people would even hope to accomplish in a few lifetimes. You can’t solve all the problems, you know. You have to focus on the ones you can change.”

“I know. I just….” Leia shifted, and Han tracked her gaze to the scene outside the window; the serene forest standing motionless, bearing witness to the calm, glittering snowscape. “I just keep thinking about that night on Endor, after the Death Star. It actually seemed possible that night, around the bonfires. Peace seemed possible. It seemed like we actually had it that night…”

“Sweetheart, we did.”

Leia turned to look up at Han, his eyes transfixed on the tranquil view. “We did have peace that night. You, me, Luke, Chewie, Lando, Wedge… hell, even the damned droids…” He looked down into her eyes. “We did have peace: we were there together.”

The warmth that spread through Leia’s body had nothing to do with the fire in the fireplace. He was so very right.

The warmth spread into her smile. Would he ever stop surprising her? “When did you get to be so sentimental?” she teased gently.

Holding her gaze steady, he answered solemnly, “When I fell in love with you.”

She blinked.

He raised an eyebrow.

She snorted. “You did not just say that.”

His head fell back in laughter. “Yeah, I did. What do you think?”

She tried so very hard to look annoyed, but didn’t manage it at all. “Laserbrain.”

He just grinned. “That’s me.” Abandoning her effort to look annoyed, she shook her head with a chuckle as she tucked it back to his chest. “ ‘s true, though,” he whispered into her hair. She snuggled in a little closer.

Han continued. “Seriously, though, Leia: you’re an idealist. You wouldn’t be where you are, or have done the things you’ve done, if you weren’t. But you’re also practical. And you know that the practical side of peace is that sometimes you just have to do the best you can do in any moment, and just enjoy those moments of peace whenever you can—“

“—and enjoy them with the people you love.”

He paused, then rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Yeah.”

They remained there for some time, arms and legs intertwined under the soft blanket, holding each other close. The fire crackled warmly in the fireplace as they gazed out at the tranquil, moonlit, snow-covered clearing. Together.

At peace.

-:||:-:||:-

**Epilogue**

The fire had diminished, the embers glowing quietly. They were still tangled together under the blanket, quiet and content in each other’s arms, when Han suddenly sat up a bit straighter. “Hey, did you know that some of the festivals here involve giving gifts?”

“Yes, I read that. It seems like a lovely tradition, to give a gift—“ Han jumped off the couch and strode back to the unit’s entry, leaving a puzzled Leia looking after him. “What…?” she began, turning around to watch him. He rummaged through the collection of gear he had discarded earlier. Realization dawned as she watched him walk back towards the couch, a parcel in one hand and a grin on his face. “Han, you didn’t… “ But he had, and he handed the parcel to her. “When did you…?”

He beamed as he sat down next to her. “On the way back. Grand Fancypants’ entourage made a big deal about getting you something for the festival. I wasn’t about to let them think I was gonna take their advice on how to treat _my woman_ —“ Leia looked at him, and he nodded that they had, in fact, really called her that, “—but, hey, no reason not to get you something.”

Leia’s heart swelled as she regarded this scoundrel of hers, leaning into the cushions, arms stretched out along the couch’s back, waiting happily for her to open his gift. He had frequently given her gifts over the years, sometimes trinkets, sometimes things that were more significant; always perfect and always treasured. In the months after Yavin, as their friendship had grown, it had bothered her that she couldn’t get him gifts in return; she just couldn’t risk discovery by going to markets in those early years. And as their friendship had progressed into something more, the gift giving became more loaded, communicating feelings they dared not express in other ways. In time, it had become an unspoken understanding that he gave gifts to her more often than she could to him, and it was never a problem. She was always delighted with his gifts, and he was always delighted that she was delighted.

She turned her attention to the parcel. It was wrapped simply; brown paper packaging tied with a simple string. She unwrapped the package, and discovered the sweater within. Her fingers traced the velvety material.

She looked back to him, eyes wide and glistening. “Han…?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. I’m actually giving you something to put on. Course, once it’s _on_ , I’ll have to help you take it _off_ …” And his grin turned outright seductive. Normally, that grin had an immediate effect on her—and he knew it—but not this time. She was still admiring the sweater.

“Han… it’s beautiful.” This gift was already a favorite. As her wardrobe consisted primarily of ill-fitting military uniforms, the transition back to life as a political figure was proving difficult. Even now, even if time permitted, she couldn’t often risk openly visiting public markets for new clothing. The sweater met a true functional need—and it really was very beautiful, too. She held it up to her chest to gauge the sizing, and nearly squealed: “And it will fit!”

He was thoroughly pleased that she was pleased, but there was more. “Yeah, and look at the care instructions! You’ll still have to be a little gentle with it, but it should be able to handle some of the rougher auto-valets in some of the ships and bases.”

It was a rare occasion when Leia nearly squealed, or was light and effervescent and filled with mirth, especially in response to material goods—but this was clearly one of them. She looked back at Han for a moment, barely long enough for him to prepare himself, before she flung her arms around his neck, laughing her thanks and showering him with kisses. He laughed his joy too, before managing to catch her kisses with his own. Slowly, sweetly, their laugher quieted down and their kisses grew deeper…

…but before their kisses gave way to other caresses, Leia stopped. She moved away, and tended to the sweater: she folded it with reverence and care, then placed it safely out of reach of any cups that might spill onto it or bodies that might pull and stress the fabric. Meanwhile, Han moved to rekindle the fire in the fireplace. She waited until he returned to the couch, flames flickering, before returning herself.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how the sweater fits,” Leia said, as she straddled her husband’s lap, her fingertips tracing gentle patterns on his shirt.

“You should probably take your other clothes off first, so they don’t get in the way,” Han replied, running his palms up along the sides of his wife’s thighs, over her hips, and higher still.

“Yes, I should. Let’s do something about that,” she breathed, resuming her shower of kisses, more slowly this time, glad he was taking her up on this more obvious invitation.

“Good idea, Sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting off her shirt (happy to be taking her up on both invitations).

The fire in the fireplace flickered away as another fire heated up, the snowy clearing outside glistening peacefully in the moonlight.

-:||:=:||=:||:-


End file.
